One Shitty Day

Well, this weekend was interesting. Saturday morning I started work at Aeropostale. It was a lot of fun and I did a real good job. In fact, I did so well that my boss kept me an extra three hours and scheduled me fore two extra hours on Sunday's shift. Extra work may not sound like a goodd thing, but all I see is extra dollars on my paycheck. I got back to school completely exhausted and had to take a nap, but managed to wake up just in time for the Rainbow Pride Union's 5th Annual Drag Show!

I was given the assignment of covering the Drag Show for Pipe Dream, which was great because I was planning on going anyway. A few of my friends were performing, and I was going to be there to cheer them on regardless. The show was incredibly fun and entertaining. All the queens and kings were amazing, and really worked the crowd. The place was packed, and it turned out that the show had sold out for the second year in a row. Lucky for me, my friends had snagged the closest table to the stage, and I got the closest seat at said table. Unfortunately, it was a little too close, and sometimes I saw a little too much, if you know what I mean. Grundels aside, the show was really good.

Katie stole the night with her boy transformation. It was really impressive, she cut her hair like a boy, gave herself thicker eyebrows, and colored on some facial hair. Talk about dedicating yourself to a performance. She looked like a twelve year old on growth hormones. Good job Katie.

But of course, the best part of the evening was Erica and Alice's Dick In A Box lip-sync. Their outfits were awesome; they both really looked like men. They also got the dance moves from the video down pact, all the way to Justin's three steps. It was really funny, and the entire audience was up in hysterics, laughing and cheering them on. And the grand finale? Both of their boxes held dildos within, which they held up to the audience on the last note. They were amazing.

I spent the rest of the night after the Drag Show hanging out with Steve, watching Star Trek: Voyager, because we're both closet geeks.

Sunday was another day at work, only this time it was shitty because my manager for the day decided to blame the fact that I didn't know how to work returns on the cash register on my own ineptitude, completely disregarding the fact that SHE failed to train me properly during my cash register training. But, I digress.

The remainder of the day was spent working on my event coverage story of the Drag Show. It took me all day, but it finally started to take shape by the time I fell asleep at 4:30am.

Monday I woke up at 7:30 for my first class of the day, and then skipped the remainder in order to make time to work on the Pipe Dream story. I literally sat in front of my computer from 10am to 4:30pm typing away at the paper and making phone calls to credible sources. I put so much effort into the story because I had been looking forward to writing it since the first week of March. It was around this time when everything went to shit real fast.

I contacted my editor to inform her of my completion of the story. I needed to ask her a few questions about quotations. I'll save you the long winded version of it (although it's actually just a selfish means of saving my fingers the agony of typing it all out) and just get to the point. Due to some miscommunication between my editor and the Release editor, I was not supposed to complete the assignment. Instead they wanted me to do some stupid captions for Weekend Warrior. Needless to say, I was pissed. Really really pissed. I had skipped classes, sacrificed my weekend, and even neglected studying for a test all to do a good job on this story, and they just threw it away as if it was nothing. AAAAAAAAGH It's so frustrating.

Things only got worse from there. Right after having my article rejected, I had to take my Biology test. The material was pretty easy, and had I studied I'm sure I would have done exceptionally well. However, I was working on the story, so instead I had to take educated guesses on about 45 of the 50 questions. I doubt the grade will come out well.

Pissed off even further, I decided to let off some steam by eating dinner. I grabbed the macaroni and cheese from Newing, because everything else was either unappetizing or too expensive. I don't know how, but they managed to burn the entire dish and still decided it was good to serve. Let me tell you, SODEXHO chefs, it was NOT good to serve. The first bite filled my mouth with the taste of burning plastic. I don't know if you readers have any idea of what the taste of burnt plastic is like, but let me tell you: IT'S DISGUSTING! And it doesn't go away either; it just lingers there for an hour or two, constantly mocking you for putting it in your mouth. As one might expect, I threw away the plate of food and decided to go for the next best thing: a raw vegetable salad. How could they screw that up, right? Well, I sat down at my table with a dish of clean ranch dressing and dipped my first forkful of greens into it. I began chewing it and actually enjoyed it, until I looked back at the ranch dressing. There, lying on it's back in my dressing was a large, black fly. I spit that mouthful of food up as well and angrily threw away my dishes. I wasted my dinner ration on food that I couldn't even eat, and I was starving since I had not eaten since breakfast earlier that morning.

I was so furious at this point that I decided to go for a walk after venting to Sean. And boy, did I walk. I don't know how far I went, or where I went. All I know is that I was gone for about two hours, I think I walked at least a mile and a half, and when I finally re-discovered where I was, I was about a quarter of a mile up Vestal Highway.

I made my way back to school and turned on Honk Your Horn with Katie Horn and Friend, Katie and Sean's radio program. I made it just in time to hear them dedicate a song to me, since I was having such a bad day. It was Mmbop, by Hansen. I couldn't help but break into laughter. They're such good friends, and I'm really glad I fell into their crowd.

Tomorrow is more work at Aeropostale, followed by a frenzy to finish all my other school work in before I go to bed, since Wednesday must be spent preparing for Chemistry and packing for Easter Break. Wish me luck.

My Faith In Humanity Restored

As of today, I can finally start eating again. I had run out of money on my student meal account card about a week and a half ago, and these last couple of days have been slim pickins. I'm pretty sure I lost about five pounds from malnutrition alone. It was sort of like I was a character on the Oregon Trail and Player set the food rations to meager. Now I know how they felt. Anyway, I think you get the point.

Still, the money that has been added is pretty low in and of itself, so I have been trying to spend no more then two to three dollars per meal, two meals a day. Today I went to dinner and the special was Teriyaki Pork. It looked delicious and they had one of the specialist chefs making it, so I decided to go for it. It was .34/oz. but I figured that it couldn't possibly tally up to that much. Besides, I had gone so long on bread and water that I owed myself at least one bout of splurging. Well, when it came time to ring the meal up, I was in for a shock. $8.84!!! That's two days worth of food on my new ration! Embarrassed, I told the cashier I couldn't afford it, and brought it back to the chef. I told him it looked delicious but I couldn't afford it and asked if he wanted it back or if I should just throw it all out. What happened next I never saw coming; he pulled me over to one of the inactive cash registers, turned it on, and payed for my meal with his own dinner card!!! I was so surprised and happy. It seems like nobody cares about anyone else anymore, but every now and then you get a completely selfless act like that. Joey would have been proven wrong.

Tomorrow morning I start work at Aeropostale, which I am extremely excited about. Only problem is I don't know anyone with a car, and buses don't start running until around noon, leaving me with no means of transportation. I'm going to have to pay for a taxi, even though I'm pretty damn near bankrupt. It's like the old saying goes, "you have to spend money to make money". Still, I wish it was only the other way around. I could live with that.

By the end of this summer though, I will have a car...hopefully. Damn, I need one badly.

Surprises

It has been little more than a week since my last post, but it feels like a semester has passed. I have been so inundated with school work that I had no time for anything else, let alone blogging. It really feels like last week was ages ago. But alas, that has passed and better times [hopefully] lie ahead.

Oh, surprise parties. One of the few true signs of being loved, I believe. After all, a group of people would not go through the trouble of organizing a party and keep it completely secret unless they really care about you.

This weekend, St. Patrick's Day, also happened to be my friend Katie's 21st birthday! She's an awesome person, and so her awesome friends decided to throw her an awesome surprise birthday bash. It was supposed to be off campus so that we could all take part in underage drinking and not have to worry about it. Unfortunately, for us, Mother Nature decided to throw a surprise of her own--in the form of a foot and a half of snow.

The snow made the roads treacherous, and we decided to call off the party for the sake of anyone having to brave the icy paths of Broome County. The party was nearly just another memory, when Erica and Steve decided to hold it in their room instead. It was a great idea; everyone managed to make it and Katie was completely surprised!

I felt bad the entire time before hand. She was completely depressed that no one wanted to hang out with her on her birthday. Everybody conveniently had something else to do (i.e. studying, downtown, etc.). It was totally worth it, though. She had no idea what was coming and the big surprise was really one of those moments that reminds you how fun life can be.

Needless to say, I got drunk. I hadn't drank since last semester in Florida, so my tolerance was feeble in comparison. I knocked them back like a champ though! I don't remember much of the night, unfortunately. I definitely remember kicking Steve's ass in a screwdriver chugging competition. And I remember eating cake with my hands, and playing Captain Planet, and skanking with Erica. The rest is all a blur. According to the multitude of Facebook pictures with myself tagged, it was a lot of dancing and laughing. Good times had by all.

Now I'm just trying to be a good student and keep up with my homework. So far so good, except that next week I will finally be starting my first couple of shifts at Aeropostale. It's awesome and I'm really excited, but I'm going to have significantly less time. It may even dip down into the negatives. That's right, I'll be so busy that I will transcend time as we know it. Sucks, doesn't it?

Chemistry homework calls, and I must finish it now if I want to have time to continue my Japanese studies later.

Sayoonara

Long Weekend Home

So these past few days were Binghamton University's "Spring Break", which was actually just a long weekend. We got Thursday and Friday off; lucky us.

Long story short, the weekend sucked hardcore balls. I decided that it was time to tell my parents that I don't want to go to medical school anymore. It didn't go too well. I knew it wouldn't go over well; I've been telling them for years med school is what I wanted, even though I've known since Freshman year that it wasn't for me. Still, I didn't think it would be this bad.

First, I told my dad. We were eating breakfast in Friendly's and I couldn't figure out how I was going to segue into it. I decided to just blurt out "I don't want to go to Med School!" His reaction? Anger. Next was my mom. I kinda just said that I had something to tell her, but she wouldn't like to hear it. She asked me to tell her anyway, so I said it. She seemed very calm about it for a while, asking me what I wanted to do instead, and I thought it was all good. Then she started to cry. I asked her why she was crying and she said "I'm just so disappointed. I already pictured you as a doctor." Needless to say, I spent the rest of the morning crying hysterically on the bathroom floor. I've never felt more horrible about myself then I did at that moment. My mom came to me later and apologized for how she reacted, saying that she was just shocked and surprised. But no matter what she says, it doesn't change the fact that I mad her cry from sheer disappointment.

The rest of the weekend was just a series of petty squabbles. Friday was the only good day, because I spent it all with Steeph, away from my parents. We hung out, laughed, watched funny videos, worked with Photoshop, and then ended the night with a double feature of Reno 911: Miami and 300. 300 was AWESOME by the way. I have nothing bad to say about it, but then again I am a sucker for the war epic. Give me a sword and some siege weaponry and I'll give you a golden review. :) Still, I would definitely go see it again in theaters, and that's a rarity for me.

Saturday night was my cousin Diali's sweet sixteen party! She's really grown into a beautiful young woman and I'm so proud of her. I can't believe my baby cus is already sixteen. It seems like just yesterday when she was falling asleep in bed next to me with a bottle of warm milk in her mouth. I hope that in the future, I can use my college experience to help guide her through hers. I only want the best for her, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let her go out into the world without any of the knowledge I've gained so far. I love you Dee.


That's all I got. It's Sunday and I have a Spanish test in approximately seven hours, thanks to my jackass teacher who thinks it's a cool idea to assign a test the day after break. Whatever, I'll knock it out and move on to this week's Chem test. Damnit, I hate Chemistry.

Snowfall

Snowfall
by Michael Moreno

The snow falls;
thick, heavy, choking out the air.
Always falling...falling...falling...
Like fairies; their wings too weak
from soaring into a sky of grey velvet.

From atop their perch among the clouds
they plummet. Motionless in the air, the
ground rushing to meet them
like a dog excited over the return
of its master. The ground moves swiftly

to greet, it's asphalt arms open wide,
yearning for embrace. And the little fairies,
beating their shriveled wings with such ferocity;
all to hold on to the race from which
they have already fallen. Their final struggle

is a brilliant dance. Their powdered bodies--
a royal white--zigzag left and right,
back and forth, always down, down, down,
down. That beautiful waltz,
those horror-filled death rows,

a last fleeting reminder of the beauty they once held. No
longer does it matter, their crystalline
bodies burst in a final display of grandeur, unable
to bear the concrete's insatiable love.

Clear, invisible; like the silent tears of unseen faces,
their blood flows over the ground
into every crack, crevice and pore;
until the Earth is saturated. The lucky
ones will come to rest on mountainous piles

of their fallen brethren. Safe for a while longer
in the bosom of those that came before it;
only to bear witness to the terror of
the wingless. Crushing their kind, with
such force that they unite, entirely, blending

with one another. A mass of fused flesh
united in death, bound by fear,
and hurled into the endless abyss.
Those are the truly lucky ones,
for they have found Nirvana.